


Not discarding you like broken glass

by nutriscii



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: (not really but just in case), F/M, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Spoilers, post ep 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24212806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutriscii/pseuds/nutriscii
Summary: He still feels it. Long after they fled, long after they left, long after they got away, with adrenaline filled lungs and shaking limbs. Five invisible bruises in shape of fingers, at the back of his shoulder, where she clung so desperately onto him.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury & Lola Lecomte, Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 127





	Not discarding you like broken glass

**Author's Note:**

> the way their friendship is tugging at my heart strings 🤧

He still feels it. 

Long after they fled, long after they left, long after they got away, with adrenaline filled lungs and shaking limbs — he still feels it, even now, in the safety of his own home. It's raw, and it burns. Five invisible bruises in shape of fingers, at the back of his shoulder, where she clung so desperately onto him. There's a part of him that is tempted to grab his hoodie now, put it under the blazing kitchen light; just seek any hole or mark in the thick material, because there _has_ to be, right? Except that Lola is wrapped in it since the moment he put it on her shoulders, in the hotel lobby, under the scrutinizing look of the hotel clerk sitting at the desk.

The other part of him, much bigger, much more sensible, much more _reasonable_ doesn't even dare moving, too afraid to wake Lola up after nearly an hour worth of silent sobbing. 

She's tough — he will give her that. 

He doesn't want her to be. 

It feels wrong for her to keep it all inside, and yet he knows better. Those feelings you keep pushing back through and through, shoving them back down until they feel almost bearable. Simultaneously wishing for someone to care and reach out, but not ready to share, not ready to confide, not ready to let go of them after holding onto them for so long. Ready to jump, ready to flee, ready to tear the whole world down just for a bit of comfort, and even less for love. Crumbs of affection she's willing to take, but layers she’s not ready to shed.

_Been there. Done that._

He's sitting on the armrest of the couch, arms heavy and loose, eyes cast on Lola's head where it's peeking out of the blanket she wrapped herself into. He offered for her to take a shower, to grab something to eat, to call someone, _anyone_ , but she kept shaking her head, denying with silent words that were not quite even whispers. 

He doesn't really know how much time has passed, how many times he replayed the whole scene in his head, how many times he heard the sound of their feet clumsily making their way down the hotel stairs on shaky legs — he doesn’t know, until he hears a few thumping noises outside, and his heartbeat rises up a little as his eyes trail off to the front door when keys jingle against the panel. 

_Fuck_. 

He almost hoped it would be one of those nights Lucas stayed over — just long enough to leave him the time to pull his shit together before second act. But maybe that's what should be happening. He doesn't know. The door opens, and Lucas barrels in, scrambling a little to pull the keys out. He doesn’t even need to look at his messy hair and flushed cheeks and too bright eyes, for Eliott to instantly know he's tipsy, just by the way he closes the door. 

"Hey bab-," he grins, broad and bright, but Eliott immediately brings a finger to his lips in a silent plea. Lucas' brows knit together in confusion, trail off from Eliott's face to Lola's sleeping form on the couch. 

It does make an odd spectacle, he guesses.

"Eliott?" he asks in a whisper, toeing off his shoes with a small thud before padding closer. "What's going on?" 

"She called me," Eliott says, a little uselessly. Lucas doesn't seem to get it any more than before, so he whispers a quiet "Lola."

His boyfriend's eyes widen for a second, then the frown is back. Deeper. He rubs his forehead with his hand, eyes traveling from Lola to Eliott a few times more before he says something. "Does Daphné know she's here?", he asks.

Eliott takes a moment to think about it, then shakes his head. Lucas lets out a click of his tongue and sighs, Eliott’s stomach constricting a little. He's not sure he can deal with dismissive Lucas right now — and this is the worst type of feeling. Because it's not his place to be shaken. It's not his place to act like something happened to _him_.

But still. Everything feels a little surreal, and numb, and weird. And a little blurry around the edges. Lola is the one who was in trouble and Lucas is the one who has been drinking. Why does _he_ feel like that?

"You don't understand," he whispers. "She called _me._ She was- she was locked in a fucking bathroom and she called me." 

_I ran as fast as I could._

_I punched a guy._

_She needs someone._

_Anyone._

Lucas seems to decipher for a moment, and it probably takes longer for both of them than usual. Lucas, because he’s obviously trying to sort it out; Eliott, because he needs to shake himself out of it. But how long until they both get there? 

_Please don't be mad_ , he almost says. It's stupid. He knows his boyfriend doesn't work like that. He could get cranky maybe, but not outright mad. It should be a relief, it really should, but he’s a bit too out of it at the moment.

"Alright," Lucas says after a while, searching his pockets for his phone, and Eliott feels the tension lift a little bit off his shoulders. "I'll send a text to Daphy. Say you two were hanging out and she fell asleep."

Eliott nods, looking back at Lola as he does so.

"You okay, baby?" 

He looks up to meet Lucas' eyes. They are a bit glassy from the drinks he had but they still are pretty as ever — he just wishes they wouldn't look so worried, packed with questions he's not sure he wants to answer.

Not now.

Not ever, supplies an unhelpful voice he tries to ignore.

"I don't know," he admits. "I can't- I don't know."

Lucas gives a quick nod. "Okay it's fine now. She's here. You're here." He holds out a hand, wriggling his fingers a little for Eliott to squeeze it back. He complies, reaching out to hold it, and Lucas pulls him forward slowly. Eliott stands up from the armrest as silently as possible, carefully stepping closer to Lucas. "Let's go to sleep," his boyfriend whispers, hand curling around his neck for him to be able to plant a soft kiss there. 

It makes Eliott relax a little bit more, and he eases into the touch, slumping a little bit in Lucas' arms. 

"What if she freaks out?" Eliott asks, a little worriedly. 

Lola would probably punch him for even asking. That’d be fairly ironical, but maybe it’s a circle that needs to be closed. A pattern that needs to be completed. He punched a guy, he gets punched in return.

Lucas pulls away a little, giving him a semi comical twist of his mouth. "Kids always find their parents' bedroom, right?" he whispers, and Eliott gives him a blank look that makes Lucas wince a little. "What? Too soon?" 

"Yes," he sighs, but it comes out fond. He wraps his arms around Lucas and pulls him close, ducking his face to bury it into Lucas' neck.

There will be questions, yes.

But they can wait. 


End file.
